Bizarro Redneck Christmas
by Lucillia
Summary: This is what happens when I get a song stuck in my head. Pray it doesn't happen again, and that Bobby doesn't find out what Castiel had done with the rest of the Mustang GT.


"Man, I'm gonna kill the idiot that introduced Cas to Jeff Foxworthy." Dean snarled when he came downstairs to find that the mug of beer and the pickled eggs were still out since the non-existent Santa Claus had not come to pick them up and Cas wouldn't let anyone else near them.

It had been Castiel's first Christmas on Earth, and the angel had attempted to get it right, but had apparently gone to the wrong sources for information. It had also been the strangest two weeks of Dean's entire life.

It had all started with an odd phone call from Bobby. Castiel had apparently decided to decorate his house and surrounding salvage yard. It probably would've been fine, but Castiel had picked up some rather odd ideas as to what constituted "decoration". Taken individually, things would have looked okay, but put all together, the effect was...eccentric to say the least. The Enochian words picked out in Christmas Lights didn't help.

They tried to get Cas to take everything down after the fifth time the Sheriff had shown up not-so-inconspicuously searching for the drugs she believed Bobby had to be hiding. The traffic jam that had been created when everyone who passed by found they had to stop and stare because they couldn't believe their eyes had been bad enough... Uriel had been absolutely no help whatsoever in this endeavor. The dark angel had instead spent much of his time either snarling about some sort of blasphemy or laughing over the "antics of the mud monkeys". He got his biggest laugh over the fact that the angel at the top of the strangely decorated tree was supposed to be Gabriel.

Sam kept telling him that he should be grateful that he had come out of the experience with nine years probation, considering the fact that if anyone had realized who he really was, they could have found themselves with Life in a maximum security penitentiary. He however, didn't feel so lucky. He was still wondering where the hell Uriel had taken him on Christmas morning, and if that had really been his mother. Considering how smashed he'd gotten after the visit and learning that Sammy was mom's favorite, it was understandable that he destroyed a few things...Alright, taking a piss on the judge's lawn probably was uncalled for. If he hadn't done that, he probably would have been able to talk the man down to three years.

If that didn't beat all, he had spent the "Twelve days of Christmas" opening the strangest presents. If he hadn't heard that stupid song years ago, he would have been completely bewildered by Cas' idea of acceptable gifts.

Bobby had told him to put the parts to the Mustang GT back a second after Cas had vanished to deal with some problem on the other side of the planet.

The two hunting dogs were taken down to the local shelter after they started chewing on one of Bobby's rarer and more valuable books.

They dumped the three shotgun shells in with the other ammo in the trunk.

They put the four big mud tires next to the smashed truck that Cas had apparently pulled them off of while Bobby grumbled about the angel rooting through **his** salvage yard for presents.

Dean kept the five flannel shirts, even though he occasionally found himself wondering where they had come from. Bobby hadn't been missing any.

Bobby chucked the six cans of spam into the back of one of the kitchen cupboards after Dean had refused to touch them.

Dean gave Bobby the seven packs of Red Man. He got a grumbled "Gee, thanks." from the man who hadn't been too happy about the blatant re-gifting.

Dean eyed the table dancers. Cas was freaking awesome! This had been the best present ever! If Cas did this next year, he'd happily put up with the bizarre lawn ornaments, blinking Enochian sigils, strange redneck gifts, and the carols in Latin and Enochian that were still being sung at all hours of the day and night by persons unknown.

Dean grumbled as he walked out of the courtroom with nine years of probation. He was totally blaming that one on Uriel.

Dean chucked the tin of Copenhagen at Sam. It hit him on the forehead, and left a bruise. Sam chucked it back at Dean. It hit him on the arm, and left a bruise. Sam and Dean started chucking the tin back and forth. An hour later, Bobby came in, snagged the tin mid-air, and called them "Idjits."

Sam, Dean, Bobby, and 8 other hunters drove long into the night to make the event in time. It was just Dean's luck that he had been too tired to properly enjoy the wrestling match.

Dean shared the twelve pack of bud with Sam and Bobby. He'd offered Uriel one, and was promptly rebuffed. He offered one to Cas. Cas gave him one of his odd looks, but he accepted.

That brought them to today. Christmas was over in any and every sense. The twelve days had been and done gone. He had awoken at midnight, wondering what had brought him out of his slumber. He finally realized that it was silence. The carols that he'd finally learned to sleep through had stopped. There weren't any brightly blinking lights on the house, the lawn or the junked cars. There was ...peace. Peace and quiet.

Dean couldn't sleep.

He went downstairs. The beer, long-since gone stale, and the now moldy pickled eggs which were starting to look like a third grader's science experiment were still out. Sam was sitting in an armchair with an open book in front of him. He wasn't looking at the book however, but was instead staring ahead and frowning as if he were trying to process a thought that had seriously disturbed him.

"What is it Sammy?" Dean asked, trying to get his brother's attention.

Sam studied Dean for a moment.

"Something came to me a few days ago, and well...it won't go away." Sam said, as if he were trying to find the right words to explain what was on his mind.

"What?" Dean asked, wondering what Sam was dancing around.

"Castiel was in some bizarre way trying to follow the song the "Twelve Days of Christmas"." Sam said, trying to gauge his brother's response to his statement.

"So?" Dean asked.

"You do know the words to the original "Twelve Days of Christmas", right?" Sam replied, looking at him oddly.

"Yeah, On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...Oh Hell no!"


End file.
